


trials of fire

by todreaminscarlet



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Anakin is a mess, Character Study, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-16
Updated: 2016-08-16
Packaged: 2018-08-09 04:27:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7786750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/todreaminscarlet/pseuds/todreaminscarlet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The courage and inspiration of the Hero-With-No-Fear is not enough to erase the memory of a scorching red saber and a world collapsing into darkness and pain.</p>
            </blockquote>





	trials of fire

**Author's Note:**

> character introspection of Anakin Skywalker, Darth Vader.
> 
> Part I

There is a boy and his mom.

 

That’s it. That’s how the story begins.

 

* * *

 

They live on a planet of dust and grief and cracked skin and worn fabrics draped over tired bodies, a land of toil and pain and slavery—all the injustices of the world compiled on one broken planet far away from any chance at life.

 

It’s not right.

 

The boy knows it.

 

( _You’re Anakin_ , his mother whispers to him at night, when they are alone and the night is cold. _notaslave notaslave notaslave_ , the refrain echoing in his mind. _are you a slave?_ a pretty girl asks him, and he bristles at the question, because although he will not say it, the answer is _yes_.)

 

Their home is built with love and dust, and it does not make for a sturdy foundation.

 

* * *

 

He leaves, and a new chapter begins, and even so history is not easily forgotten ( _where are you from?_ and _who are you?_ are not easy questions to answer when you are a child and your mother was a slave.)

 

It is not easy to forget the injustice and the knowledge that you cannot leave, cannot control your own destiny, cannot define your own legacy. It is not easy to abandon the only love you have known for the uncertain certainty of an Order of rules and expectations (they say _leave it behind_ like you can rip out your soul into a hundred pieces and leave it buried behind in a shallow grave or scatter it across the galaxy never to be found again. You cannot ignore it, he thinks. He has tried—he has failed).

 

* * *

 

Obi-Wan tries his best and remains endlessly patient and gentle and understanding; he stops and teaches and explains even with the haunted grief that creeps into his eyes late at night, when it is just the two of them alone in their quarters. 

 

But he always does the same thing: closes his eyes and breathes and lets go into the depths of the Force and breathes and centers himself and when he opens his eyes again, they are calm and peaceful and his grief is released into the swirling intangibility of the Force, and he is at peace.

 

Anakin does not understand. 

 

He can’t comprehend this complete surrender, Obi-Wan’s willingness to be nothing, to be humble, to let go of all that is unfair and untrue, to relinquish his desires and fears into the Force’s not-so benevolent protection. 

 

It makes no sense. 

 

Anakin will not lose himself, not again. He is no slave, he is his own master; he is no slave--not even to the Force. 

 

* * *

 

Obi-wan tells him he can leave if he chooses and that he will not hold him in the Order’s straining grasp, but he can’t leave, not really. He wants to be more, to be everything, to be the Jedi’s shining star, the prophetic Savior, a man of legend. He wants to be husband and son and father and everything that boils down to saying _I love you_ not _I am nothing_. ( _notaslave notaslave_ , he still reminds himself. _notaslave_.) 

 

He stays, of course, and fights his way to the top, wins his legend through movement and strength and unparalleled confidence. _Anakin Skywalker, the Hero-With-No-Fear_ , they call him and he wraps himself in robes of black and holds his saber of blue and smiles and flips and fights, and wins over and over, forces himself to be something more, something different than cream and brown and gentle eyes and _release, release, release_. 

 

* * *

 

_No_ isn’t the answer. He wants to hear _yes, forgiven, saved_ , that power and freedom means safety and love and not sacrifice and endless grief.

 

(It never occurs to a little eight-year-old boy desperate for freedom and safety and a name other than _slave_ that life’s ills are not cured with circumstances but that life requires sacrifice and heartbreak and picking yourself up off the broken pedestals we create for ourselves to make ourselves something better, bigger, nobler.)

 

The universe screams _no_ , screams _love is not for you_ , that _you cannot control_ , that you are destined for slavery and masters and self-denial when all you have wanted is for someone to stare at you and say _feel_ , to say that you are the maker of your own destiny and that you can fight against the relentless mastery of this omnipotent, omniscient Force which somehow determines who you must be.

 

* * *

 

He plants his feet on the ever shifting ground and refuses to move, because he does not want to. 

 

He looks up at the world rushing by, the scum crawling along the core, the lights flashing in the sky—and there is the part of him that abhors its corruption and disbelief and pain and destruction; resents the lies by all those who call themselves good and true; hates the enslavement of those they proclaim to be noble defenders.

 

He stares at a world too loud and yet not loud enough, contradictions raging in his head, and then there are soft arms encircling his waist—and he wants ( _wants_ ). 

 

* * *

 

He holds and clings and prays to the gods and wants and wants and wants—he can’t abandon Obi-Wan, his fame, and his legacy, but he can’t leave Padme, her softness, and her fierce dedication.

 

He will not let go. 

 

* * *

 

He falls so easily in the end. 

 

A brief moment of regret and doubt, but fear is so much easier than nobility, and it is simpler to trust when you can see the promise in someone’s eyes. 

 

( _Padme and the children will be safe; Obi-Wan will join me_ , he lies to himself. Everything finally within reach—villainy removed; power over death, no struggle, never letting go, never, never, never.)

 

_Master_ , he says, and he is used to this, using words that mean too much and pretending they do no mean what others hope they mean. 

 

_I will overcome_ , he thinks, _I will rule. I will, I can, we can._

 

(They don’t.)

 

* * *

 

He’s burnt, betrayed, voice raspy and robotic, more machine than man. 

 

He’s clothed in the black of his knighthood, a knight no longer, an agent of the dark instead—his limbs are not his own, his anguish too much for his heart (gone, all gone, all lies, nothing more, Obi-Wan, Obi-Wan, _Padme_ ). 

 

* * *

 

He wants to burn the galaxy down. 

 

* * *

 

He goes where he’s ordered and doesn’t let anyone get in his way. He eliminates foes that were once friends and then there are no friends at all any more, just allies, and he clenches his fist and they choke to death and no one tells him _nay_. 

 

* * *

 

_Master_ , he says, over and over, _my master, thy bidding, master, master_ , and he never stops. _Master_. 

 

* * *

 

There are no foundations left to crumble, no hopes left to lose, but he hears the word _Skywalker_ , and his mind thinks _mine_ , and he wants once again. _I am yours_ , he says and cuts off a limb instead of offering his hand, and the struggle keeps building until the moment of truth and revelation, until _father_ rings in his ears, and he decides that he is Luke’s if nothing else, the galaxy and legacy be damned. The apprentice becomes master, Sith almost to the last, and then Luke holds him and and he relinquishes his hate and anger, accepts his grief, and his lungs ache, and he can just barely speak. 

 

_Luke, you were right._

 

* * *

 

(Luke, darkness is not the end. I am different, I am back, I’m back.)

 

(You were right.)

 

* * *

 

It’s only a chapter that ends, because there are consequences for any decision and the years of enmity and destruction and pride and hurt are not easily forgotten. 

 

Forgiveness and the sweet embrace of death only removes him as a player; it cannot erase his legacy, not a bitter one such as this. 

 

No, it carries on and lays itself upon the already weary shoulders of children who did not even know him, and it is a heavier weight then anyone ought to bear—a legacy of grief and pain far surpassing the kindness and peace of his son and the bravery and dedication of his daughter.

 

* * *

 

_I will walk in the stars_ , a little slave boy tells his mother in the dark of the evening. 

 

_People will remember me_ , a padawan prays before the shrine to his gods. 

 

_I will be a master_ , a prideful youth declares before his time. 

 

This is the legacy a boy longs to leave behind: power, remembrance, no fear, twinkling eyes, ringing voice, fiery blue. 

 

But desires of the heart do not equate to the reality of life (this has been one of his most painful lessons), and so this is not his legacy. 

 

This is not his legacy, because pain is not easily forgotten and one’s heritage does not justify one’s actions. This is not his legacy, because the Dark Side is quicker and easier than the light, and anger has run in his family far deeper than forgiveness. (Anakin to Leia to Ben—it makes more sense than anyone would wish to admit.)

 

Sparks of anger fly into the cool air quicker than the embers of peace, and so the galaxy erupts into destructive, hurtful flames. 

 

(This is legacy.)

**Author's Note:**

> I love Anakin, let me say that off the bat, but I have such complicated feelings about the legacy he left behind, the triumph of returning from a place every wise Jedi believed there was no return, but the reality of leaving behind a broken, miserable, confused world. It's a mess, and my feelings are the same, and so we have this. 
> 
> It's not done. I know there's a part II, because the story doesn't end here, not like this, because there is still Luke and there is always hope and love (because what's the point if there's not) but it's ending here for now.


End file.
